The Night of the Sinister Snare
by Deana
Summary: Jim and Artie get involved in a situation where a family member of Artie's is framed for murder: his cousin, the legendary Bat Masterson. CHAPTER 7 UP!
1. A Family Affair

**THE NIGHT OF THE SINISTER SNARE**  
By Deana

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Artemus Gordon tapped an acknowledgement on the telegraph key, before standing and crossing to James West, who was sitting on the nearby couch. "Did you catch that?" Artie asked.

Jim nodded. "Strange message."

Artie read it aloud. "Please proceed to Kansas City, Missouri, and identify a prisoner at the local jail." He shook his head. "I asked for more information, but Richmond has not a single clue of who it is, what crime they committed, or why. All he knows is that the town sheriff sent Washington this urgent request."

Jim shrugged. "At least we're not far from there…we should reach it tomorrow."

Artie nodded, tapping the paper against his face. "I wonder who it is…it must be someone that we know, if they want us to identify them."

"I wonder why their identity is so much in question," said Jim.

Artie shrugged and sat down. "There's no sense in driving ourselves insane trying to figure out who it is; we'd probably be wrong. It could be anyone."

The two agents each tried to figure it out anyway, even as they walked into the sheriff's office the next day.

"You two West and Gordon?" the sheriff asked, before they could open their mouths.

"That's right," said Jim. "Can we see the prisoner?"

"Right this way," the sheriff said, getting up from his chair and heading through a door.

Jim and Artie followed, coming to a cell where the prisoner was sprawled sitting up on the cot. When the man saw them, he sighed with relief. "Thank God," he remarked.

Artie's jaw dropped and he looked at the sheriff. "Open this cell right now!"

The sheriff looked at him, indignantly. "And why should I do that?"

"Because this is Bat Masterson! Are you blind?" Artie exclaimed, taking the keys from him and opening the cell himself. He and Jim entered and headed over.

"Bat," said Artemus, sitting on the cot. "Are you all right?" Seeing manacles on Bat's wrists, he searched for the key that would unlock them.

Bat gave a lopsided smile and held up his arms so that Artie could remove the manacles. "I will be once I get out of here."

Artie shook his head as he tried one of the keys. Bat looked like he'd been run over by a stagecoach; his usually impeccable suit was dirty, and he had bruises on his face and a cut near his eye.

"What happened to you?" Jim asked him, just as shocked as Artie.

Bat sighed as the manacles opened, and he rubbed his wrists. "I'd been hired to come here to find a kidnapped woman. The night before last, I was suddenly surrounded by a gang of men who beat the daylights out of me. When I fought back, I was shot," he said, pointing to his left leg. "They knocked me unconscious, and when I woke, I found the man who'd hired me lying nearby, dead. Now I'm _here_, accused of his murder." He shot an annoyed look at the sheriff. "And no one believed who I was, hence your presence here now."

Artie dropped the manacles onto the floor and shifted, to take a look at Bat's leg. His face dawned with shock when he saw the makeshift bandage, and he started to untie it, giving an accusing look at the sheriff. "You didn't have a doctor look at this?! Is the bullet still in there?" He knew that if it was, then Bat's blood was already being poisoned by the lead.

"The bullet went all the way through," said Bat. "By the time they threw me in here, it wasn't bleeding much anymore. I guess they decided that a prisoner due to hang for murder wasn't worth paying a doctor for."

Artie looked at the wound, to see that Bat was right. He tied the cloth back around it, before gently sweeping Bat's legs off the cot, and taking him under one arm. "Let's go," he said, pulling him to his feet.

"Now, wait a minute!" the sheriff exclaimed. "You're not taking my prisoner _anywhere_! I don't care if he's Bat Masterson or not, he's charged with murder!"

Bat stood slowly, his entire body stiff and aching. He sighed at the sheriff.

Jim took Bat's other arm. "Can't you recognize a setup when you hear one?" he said to the sheriff. "This man is no more guilty of murder than _you_ are. We will take full responsibility for him."

The sheriff took out his gun and pointed it at them. "I'm the sheriff here, not you."

Jim pulled out his own gun. "We're the Federal Agents here, not _you_."

The sheriff stared at him for a minute, before re-holstering his gun with a sigh.

Carefully, Jim and Artie helped Bat limp out of the cell.

The first thing that Bat noticed as they neared the sheriff's desk was his walking stick leaning against the wall. Apparently, the sheriff was so sure that he would hang, that he was keeping it for himself.

Artie saw it, and grabbed it.

"His gun and wallet, please?" Jim said to the sheriff.

Angrily, the sheriff opened the bottom drawer of his desk and took them out, handing them over to Jim. "But who killed the man, then?" he exclaimed.

"That," said Jim, as they helped Bat towards the door. "Is what we're going to find out."

They left the building, and stood outside for a minute.

"You have a room at the hotel?" Artemus asked.

Bat nodded.

"The town doctor should take a look at you," said Jim.

"But the hotel is closer," said Artie, pointing. "We should bring the doctor to _him_."

Jim nodded. "Take him inside, I'll get the doctor." With that, he walked off.

Artie handed Bat his walking stick, which definitely came in handy right now. "Do you have any idea who would've framed you?" he asked, helping Bat cross the street.

Bat shook his head. "I've made a lot of enemies in my lines of work," he said. "I couldn't even _begin_ to speculate. Could be an angry gambler…someone I arrested…a business competitor…the list goes on and on."

Artie nodded. "I know the feeling."

A minute later, they entered the hotel, and the clerk looked surprised to see Bat apparently free, and in the company of Artemus Gordon. The whole town knew what had happened, and he watched as the two men headed over to the staircase.

"One of these days I'm going to build a hotel," Bat said to Artie, as he painfully climbed the first step. "With rooms on the _bottom_ floor."

"That would certainly come in handy for men like us," said Artemus, tightly grasping his arm.

It took a couple of minutes for them to ascend the stairs, and Artie had to support more of Bat's weight the closer they got to his room. Once they finally arrived, Artie took the key from him and opened the door, helping him over to the bed.

Bat exhaled noisily, wincing as he sat down.

Artie sat beside him and started undoing the buttons on Bat's vest. "You were kicked in the ribs?" he asked.

Bat looked at him. "How did you know?"

Artie made a face at him. "How many fights did you and I get into when we were younger, _cousin_? Rather, how many fights did I have to save you from? I can tell by how you're breathing," Artie said, carefully pulling the jacket and vest off him.

Bat laid down with a wince, and Artie reached over to unbutton his shirt. "I can do it," Bat said, reaching for the buttons.

Artie left him to it and fetched a bowl of water and a towel, getting them ready for the doctor.

"And by the way," said Bat, as he unbuttoned his shirt. "I didn't always _need_ saving from fights…it's not my fault that you thought I needed rescuing just because I was a whole _year_ younger than you…I can remember many situations that were the other way around."

Artie smiled. "Ah, the good old days…"

TBC  
Yes, the avatar for this story is a pic of Bat Masterson; he was brilliantly played on TV by Gene Barry.


	2. Is There a Doctor in the House?

Not long after, Jim returned with a doctor.

"Well, Mr. Masterson," said the doctor. "I'm glad to find you out of jail."

Bat looked up at him as the doctor sat on the side of the bed next to his leg. "Are you? And why is that?"

"I don't think you killed the fella," the doctor said, untying the bloodstained cloth. "I lived in Ford County when you were the sheriff there. You were the best one we ever had…fair and just. You really made a name for yourself."

Bat smiled. "Thank you, doctor, I appreciate that."

The doctor smiled. He studied the in-and-out gunshot wounds. "You were lucky, it missed the bone."

Bat nodded, and for the next half-hour, he endured the doctor's poking and prodding. Once finished, the doctor made him drink a glass of water containing a painkilling powder, which quickly made him drowsy.

"I'm sure that you two know how to take care of him," the doctor said to Jim and Artie, after stepping away from the bed. "Keep his bruised ribs wrapped, and change the bandage on his leg morning and night…you know the drill. He doesn't appear to have a concussion, but considering that he has a bump on his head, _and_ the cut near his eye, if his headache worsens or he passes out or starts acting strange, send for me immediately."

Both Jim and Artie nodded, and Jim took out his wallet.

"Jim, what are you doing?" Bat suddenly said. "Take it out of mine."

Jim put his wallet away and went over to the chair that Artie had hung Bat's jacket on. He took out Bat's wallet and opened it, finding, just as he expected, a very large sum of money. He took out the doctor's fee and gave it to him, before putting the wallet back.

The doctor left, and Jim and Artie went back over to the bed.

Bat seemed to be falling asleep thanks to the painkiller, eyes half-closed. He kept blinking them open.

"Get some rest, Bat," Artie told him. "We'll make sure that whoever did this to you doesn't get in here."

Bat was grateful and tried to thank them, but fell asleep before he had a chance.

Jim and Artie watched him sleep for a minute, before stepping away from the bed. "Any ideas, Jim?" Artie whispered.

Jim shook his head. "Not yet. You?"

Artie shook his head too. "There's no clues to base anything on. Bat is pretty resourceful…he doesn't go down in a fight easily. It must've been at least five or six men who ambushed him."

Jim looked over his shoulder, checking to make sure they weren't talking loud enough to wake Bat. "Once he's up, we'll have him take us to where he was attacked. Maybe we'll find some answers there."

Artemus nodded.

Five hours later, Bat woke up. He shifted without thinking, and winced from the pain. Opening his eyes, he found Artie sitting in a chair beside the bed.

"How do you feel?" Artie asked.

Bat blinked a few times. "Groggy," he admitted, putting a hand over his eyes. "I didn't get much sleep in the jail."

"Did the painkiller help?"

Bat nodded. He moved his hand and looked around the room, spotting the clock that showed that it was nearly six in the evening. "Where's Jim?"

"Talking to the sheriff. He's trying to gather as much information about this as he can."

Bat nodded. "I don't know what he'll get out of him. That sheriff didn't try very hard to find out the truth…he simply believed what he saw and didn't listen when I tried—multiple times—to explain. Then he said that I was pretending to be Bat Masterson just to get out of it. Makes me wonder how many _other_ innocent men have been imprisoned or hanged by him."

Artie nodded. That was a terrible thought. "Power unfortunately goes to some people's heads, and it's especially tragic when a sheriff falls prey to it."

Bat nodded and lay quietly for a minute, before suddenly saying, "Have you had dinner yet?"

Artie shook his head. "No. I was waiting for Jim to come back."

"Good," said Bat, trying to sit up. "That excuse-for-a-sheriff barely fed me. I'm starving."

Artie put a hand on his shoulder, to stop him. "We can have the hotel bring something up, you don't have to go downstairs."

Bat shook his head before realizing that he shouldn't do that, and winced as he made it to a seated position. "You know that it takes a lot to keep Bat Masterson down. I need to find out who wanted me to hang for a murder that I didn't commit, and I won't be able to do that that while lying here."

Artie couldn't blame him, and fetched him a clean suit from the wardrobe.

Just when Bat was dressed and ready, Jim returned. He looked surprised to see Bat out of bed.

"Find out anything?" Bat asked, as Artie helped him with his jacket.

"Not really," said Jim. "There were no witnesses to the attack on you. All he knows is that you were found lying in an alley with a dead man nearby. He surmised that the two of you fought, and you shot him before passing out from your injuries."

Bat shook his head again, even though it hurt. "That's what he kept insisting, even when I tried to tell him the truth." Suddenly, he thought of something. "Can you hand me my gun?"

Jim, closest to the table where the gun and holster lay, brought them over to Bat, who was sitting on the side of the bed.

Bat took the gun and opened the chamber…there were no bullets missing. "Oh, and what does _this_ tell our intelligent sheriff?" he said, sarcastically. "I was so dazed from the injuries that I didn't think of this until now."

Artie sighed. "I can't believe that he didn't even check. Some sheriff."

Jim shook his head…it would've instantly cleared up the whole matter.

Bat shut the chamber and put the gun into his holster, belting it around himself.

Artie had Bat's walking stick ready, and handed it to him before helping him to his feet.

Bat winced and teetered a little, unsure yet how much weight he could put on his leg. Carefully, he limped the few steps over to the table and picked up his hat, before limping the rest of the way to the dresser, so he could look in the mirror.

Artemus quickly followed him, in case he lost his balance.

The face reflected in the glass looked tired, and Bat frowned at the bruises and cut near his left eye. He sighed, carefully, for his ribs' sake. "Looks like I won't be attracting any lovely ladies in _this_ town," he said, running his fingers through his hair, careful not to touch the bump on his head before putting on his hat.

"Are you kidding?" Artie replied. "You'll probably attract more than _usual_…the mothering types will fall all over you when they see that you're injured, don't we know it, Jim?"

Jim smiled. He and Artie certainly had a lot of experience in _that_.

Bat nodded. "Oh, I don't doubt it." He looked at Jim as he limped by him. "I know what ladies men the two of you are, but I'm warning you, I'm _at least_ equal to you in that." He opened the door and looked back at them. "It's every man for himself." With that, he tapped the brim of his hat with the cane, and limped out the door.

Jim and Artie shot a look at each other before dashing after him.

Bat carefully made his way down the stairs, slower than he liked, holding onto the rail and using his walking stick. This wasn't the first time that he'd been shot in the leg, but it _was_ the first time that the bullet had gone in _and_ out, and it was hard enough walking with one painful hole in it, nevermind two. He knew that he shouldn't even _be_ walking on it, but like he'd told Artie: it took a lot to keep him down.

Jim and Artie caught up with him and Artie took hold of Bat's arm, ensuring that he wouldn't fall down the stairs should his leg give out on him.

A waitress spotted them and followed them to the table that they chose. "Mr. West, Mr. Gordon," she said with a smile, after they sat. "Mr. Masterson…you poor dear. How is your leg?"

Bat shot a look at Jim and Artie as he took off his hat, as if to say, 'the game begins!' "It's all right, considering. And what is _your_ name, lovely lady?"

The waitress smiled. "I'm Milly." Her eyes opened wider when she saw the bruises on his face and the cut near his eye. "Oh!" she exclaimed, reaching out to gently turn his face towards her. "Those must hurt!"

Bat smiled. "They do, but your touch is gentle enough to soothe them, my dear."

She blushed.

Artie rolled his eyes.

Jim cleared his throat.

Milly blinked. "I'll get you gents some coffee while you decide on what you're having," she said, taking a step away from the table.

Bat reached out and grabbed her hand. "Thank you, Milly." With that, he kissed it.

Milly's blush deepened, and she giggled before rushing away.

Bat shot Jim and Artie a triumphant look.

The two agents looked at each other. "Our equal," they said, in unison.

TBC


	3. Clues

After dinner—and more flirting with Milly—Bat found that the painkiller was wearing off, but agreed anyway to show Jim and Artie the alley where the men had attacked him. After leaving money on the table, with a very generous tip, they left. They still had an hour before sunset.

"Is the alley far from here?" Jim asked.

Bat pointed to the right. "It's that way."

Artie shook his head. "I think Jim's asking if it's too far for you to walk."

"Oh," said Bat. His horse was in the livery stable, and he knew that Jim's and Artie's were too. "It's not far," he said.

Jim and Artie nodded and followed as Bat limped in the direction of the alley. It was a little further than they expected it to be, and Bat stopped just as they reached it. "This is where they accosted me," he said. "Just as I passed the alley, they jumped out and grabbed me, dragging me halfway down it." They entered the alley, and Bat stopped again. "They took my gun and cane as they pulled me in, and by the time we got _here_, they were pummeling me." There was a crate nearby, and Bat sat on it with a relieved sigh, glad to get off his leg. "I fought back and got in a few good hits, so one of them shot me and pushed me down. Someone eventually cracked me over the head, and when I woke, the man who'd hired me was lying dead nearby, and the sheriff was standing over me. The rest, you know."

Jim and Artie had been looking around while Bat told them the story. They saw the bloodstain left behind by Bat's wound, but no others.

"Bat," said Artie. "How was the man killed?"

"He was shot."

"There's no other bloodstains here," Jim told him, realizing the same thing that Artemus had noticed.

Bat stood and hobbled over, seeing that Jim was right. "So he was killed somewhere else, and moved here."

"Not only that," said Artie. "But the bullet that killed him won't match up to your gun." He looked at Jim. "We need to talk to the sheriff again."

Jim nodded.

Bat looked towards the back of the alley. "Is this a dead end?"

Jim jogged to the end. "No."

"So they had to have brought the body from that direction, in order to not be seen," said Artie.

Bat sighed. "They sure went to a lot of trouble to frame me. Obviously, the dead man was involved, and the kidnapped woman that I was hired to find wasn't real."

"Maybe involved against his will," said Jim. "And that's why he was later killed."

Bat nodded. "Probably." He started limping towards the end of the alley, and Jim and Artie followed him. Nothing struck them out of the ordinary…they mainly saw the back of several nearby shops. It was starting to get dark now, as the sun got lower and was blocked by buildings and trees.

"We can investigate further tomorrow," said Artie, taking Bat's right arm. "Let's get you back to the hotel, you shouldn't be walking on that leg."

Bat couldn't argue that, and let Artemus lead him out of the alley.

After a few minutes, Artie became aware of Bat's harsh breathing, and looked at him to see a wince on his face. He stopped walking, forcing his cousin to halt. "You all right?" he asked, even though the answer was obvious.

Bat shifted off his left leg, leaning heavily on the cane. "The painkiller wore off," he said, trying to take a deep breath, but failing thanks to his bruised ribs.

Artie immediately pulled Bat's right arm around his neck, letting him lean on him.

Jim sighed and looked around, wondering if the person who wanted Bat dead would attack them now that Artie was out of the picture when it came to shooting back. He kept a wary eye out as they walked more slowly towards the hotel, and he was relieved when they made it there without incident.

Getting Bat up the stairs took longer this time, and by the time that they got him into his room, beads of sweat covered Bat's forehead and he was barely holding in a groan.

Artie sat him on the bed and mixed the painkiller in a glass of water while Jim got Bat's jacket off him.

Bat took a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket before Jim could hang it on the nearby chair, and he wiped it over his face with another ragged breath. When he reopened his eyes, the glass was before his face, and Bat took it and drank it gratefully, before painfully lying down. "Thanks," he said, still wincing.

Jim and Artie nodded and watched him for a minute, waiting for the wince to melt away into painless sleep before they spoke.

"We're going to keep watch over him, right?" Artie whispered. It was a statement, rather than a question.

Jim nodded. "I'll go see if the room next door is empty."

Artie nodded back as Jim left. Gently, he changed the bandage on Bat's leg before grabbing the blanket at the end of the bed and pulling it up over him. That done, he sat in the chair near the bed.

It turned out that the next room was indeed empty, and Jim rented it, going inside and coming back into Bat's room through the connecting door. "I'm not tired," Jim said. "I'll take the first watch."

Artie nodded. Jim had endless energy. "Goodnight."

"Night, Artie."

Artie went through the connecting door, and fell asleep wondering how long it would take them to discover who had done this to Bat.

Jim spent the time thinking, but not coming up with much. He knew all about Bat's exploits, and how he'd made enemies unfairly, through helping the innocent. If Bat himself didn't know who had done this, then there was no way for Jim to figure it out, either.

Five hours later, Jim woke Artie and went to sleep himself.

Artie yawned as he sat in the chair. Bat was in the same position that he'd fallen asleep in, and Artie was glad that his cousin didn't snore. He realized that they needed to send Richmond a telegram telling him what they'd found here, and ask if they could remain to help. He had no doubt that Richmond would say 'yes', as Bat was not only Artie's cousin, but also a very respected figure to the government.

The rest of the night passed quietly, and Jim came back in at 7am.

Artie's body was getting cramped, as he sat with his face in his hand, elbow on the arm of the chair. "He slept all these hours without moving a muscle," he said. He reached over and picked up the packet of painkiller. "Maybe we should buy some of this from the doctor to use as an occasional sleeping aid."

Jim smiled. "I'm going to send Richmond a telegram."

"Good," Artie said. "Tell him that it's Bat and that we're staying to help."

Jim nodded. "Exactly what I planned to say. I'll be back."

Artie stood from the chair after Jim left, and stretched, heading away from the bed and over to the window. He looked out on the town in the direction of the ally, wondering if no one had really seen what had happened. He found that very hard to believe...

TBC


	4. The Story

Once 8 o'clock rolled around, Artie grew unnerved by Bat's motionlessness, and went back over to the bed, sitting on it. He took Bat's wrist and found his pulse beating steadily. He knew that he'd feel better if Bat woke up, but he knew that his cousin needed the rest, and figured that he'd wait a little longer.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the hotel room door.

Artie knew that it wasn't Jim, and stood from the bed, taking his gun out of his holster, pulling back the hammer, and standing on the side of the door. "Yes?" he said.

"It's Dr. Allens," he heard.

Artie recognized the man's voice and unlocked the door, pulling it open a crack to make sure, before opening it all the way. "Good morning, doctor," he said.

"Good morning," he said. "How's the patient?"

Artie refrained from mentioning Bat's excursion of the night before. "That painkiller makes him sleep like a rock. I wonder if I might buy some from you myself for future use."

The doctor turned concerned eyes on him. "Have you a chronic malady?"

"For _years_," Artie said, with a sigh. "It's called 'working with James West'."

The doctor laughed. "I've heard of some of the cases that you two have handled." He opened his bag and took out another packet. "Here you are."

Artie took it with a smile and stuck it in his pocket, before taking out his wallet and paying him.

"Thank you!" said Allens, putting the money into his pocket and crossing to the bed. He found Bat's eyes open. "Well, Mr. Masterson! How are you feeling this morning?"

The long sleep had definitely done Bat some good; some of the color was back in his face and he was clear-eyed. "Better," he said, rubbing his eyes.

"Glad to hear it," said the doctor. He pulled the blanket back to check Bat's leg, and was surprised to find him still in his pants and shirt…a different pair of pants that had no holes or bloodstains. He knew that Bat needed to clear his name and couldn't do that while lying in bed, so he chose not to scold him. Instead, he changed the bandage and checked him over, finding that the bump on his head had started to shrink. "Here are some pain pills that you can take in the daytime," he said, putting a bottle on the nightstand. "These won't knock you out like the powder."

Bat was glad to hear that…he'd been wondering how he would effectively investigate while half-asleep all day. "Thanks," he said. He carefully sat up and grabbed his jacket on the nearby chair, getting out his wallet and paying the doctor.

Allens stuck the money into his pocket. "Be careful with that leg. If you need me for anything else, don't hesitate."

"Thank you," Artie said, opening the door for him and closing it after he left. Turning back to the bed, he sighed. "Come up with anything?"

Bat shook his head as he took out two of the pills and swallowed them with the glass of water still on the nightstand from the night before. "Whoever it is must be watching me," he said. "I'll have to look at every face I come upon and see if I recognize someone. Maybe we should ride through town later, after we see the sheriff."

Artie knew that Bat would be making himself a target that way, but nodded. Crossing over to the window, he saw Jim heading over to the hotel, leading all three of their horses.

After Jim had sent the telegram to Colonel Richmond, he'd walked around town asking early risers if they'd seen or heard anything, or might know anything that they didn't. He got no new information, and eventually headed back to the telegraph office to see if Richmond had already sent a reply: he had, giving them permission to help Bat solve the case. Wisely, he'd retrieved their horses and tied them to the hotel's rail before heading up the stairs and into the room, finding Bat awake and putting on his jacket.

"Richmond gave us permission to stay," he told Bat.

Bat nodded. "Thanks, I appreciate the help."

"As if we would leave at a time like this," said Artie. "Tell us about the man who hired you to find this so-called kidnapped woman."

"I was in Wichita," said Bat. "While playing poker in a saloon, a man asked if he could speak to me afterwards. I met with him later, and he introduced himself as Michael Jones, and explained to me that his sister had been…dishonored…by a friend of his recently, but had been too ashamed to notify the authorities. That morning, he'd found her bedroom in disarray, and a note left behind that said, 'She's mine'. He begged me to come to Kansas City to find her, as this is where his friend lived."

"Did he give you an address?" Jim asked.

Bat shook his head. "No. He was quite the actor…played his part very convincingly." He looked at Artie. "He could've been your rival."

Artie made an 'oh sure' face. "What was the friend's name?"

"Matthew Rivers," Bat told him. "Upon arriving here, the first thing I did was ask around if anyone knew where he lived, but the only answers I got were that no one knew him."

"Fake names," said Artie. He sighed and crossed over to the table where Bat's gold-tipped walking stick lay, and brought it to him, wanting to head downstairs for breakfast.

Bat stood and managed to hide a wince. His leg was very stiff…he shouldn't've done all that walking the night before.

Artie could read his cousin like a book, and grabbed his other arm as Bat took a painful step towards the door.

A few minutes later found them sitting at a table in the dining room, and Bat let out a relieved breath.

"Well, good morning, all!" they heard. It was, predictably, Milly.

"Good morning," all three of them answered.

"How are you feeling today, Mr. Masterson?" she asked.

"I'm doing better," he said, giving her a charming smile. "And please, call me 'Bat'."

She smiled back. "Bat…is that short for something?"

"Batty," Artie mumbled under his breath as he looked at the menu.

Bat heard, and shot him a humored grin before looking at Milly again. "My full name is William Barclay Masterson. They call me 'Bat' because I prefer to use _this_ as a weapon before resorting to my gun," he said, holding up his walking stick.

"Oh! As if it's a bat! That's funny!" she exclaimed.

Bat smiled.

"You won't shoot someone unless you have no choice…how honorable!" Milly continued.

Seizing the opportunity, Bat shot another triumphant look at Jim and Artie before taking Milly's hand and kissing it again. "Why thank you, my dear."

She giggled again.

"How about some coffee?" Artie suddenly asked.

"Oh!" Milly exclaimed, as if having forgotten that anyone else was there. "Of course!" She hurried away.

Jim sighed and looked at Artemus. "We have to do something about this, Artie."

Bat adopted a hurt expression. "Really, Jim? You would try to steal my girl?"

Jim shrugged. "Like you said, it's every man for himself!"

Bat chuckled.

Milly brought their coffee. "Everyone know what you're having?"

"Pancakes," said Artie.

"Ham and eggs," said Jim.

"I'll have pancakes too," said Bat.

Milly wrote it down and left, bringing the food back in record time.

Jim watched Artie and Bat as they each poured on the syrup, both of them using twice what was required. They were so much alike that it was easy to see that they were related; they were both sharp dressers, the same height, were both very personable, always appreciated and defended women…they even both were lawmen.

"Something wrong, Jim?" Artie suddenly asked.

Jim realized that he hadn't started to eat yet. "I was just thinking how alike the two of you are."

Artie and Bat looked at each other to see that they each had a fork in the air laden with dripping pancakes.

"Ah, yes," said Artie. "Bat always wanted to be just like me."

Bat knew that Artie was baiting him, and didn't fall for it. "My, these pancakes are delicious," he said, as if his cousin hadn't spoken.

Jim chuckled and took a bite of his eggs. "You two could be fraternal twins separated at birth."

Bat shook his head. "Not possible; I'm a year younger."

Artie rolled his eyes. "Which you _never _cease to remind me."

Jim smiled. "And I'm _four_ years younger than _you_," he said to Bat.

Bat and Artie both stopped eating and looked at each other. "You think we could both take him on together?" Artie said.

Bat nodded. "I'm sure, once my injuries heal."

Jim nearly choked on his eggs, indignant.

Artie and Bat both chuckled. "Do you recognize anyone in the room?" Artie asked his cousin.

Bat shook his head. "No, not yet. Whoever set this up could have minions keeping an eye on me."

Artie nodded.

They eventually left, and stood outside the hotel for a few minutes, looking around.

"This really doesn't make sense," said Bat. "It's been three days since I was attacked…you'd think that whoever it was would've tried something by now."

"Maybe they're intimidated by Jim and I being with you," said Artie. "If they know who we are."

Bat nodded. "Possibly." He started limping towards the sheriff's office, hoping that this visit and subsequent discussion would yield some results.

TBC


	5. The Culprit

Jim and Artie followed Bat to the sheriff's office, and when they entered, they found the sheriff sitting at his desk.

The sheriff looked up, surprised to see them. "Yes?" he said.

"We have some questions for you," Bat said, sitting in the chair before the desk.

"Number one," said Jim. "Did the coroner remove the bullet from the dead man?"

The sheriff nodded. "Of course." He opened a drawer and took it out, tossing it onto the desk.

Bat took out his gun and opened the chamber. "Here are _my_ bullets. All _six_ of them." With that, he held the gun over the desk and let them all fall out.

The sheriff realized what he was implying, but said nothing about his obvious blunder. He didn't even have to pick the bullets up to see that they were different. He frowned. "So you really didn't kill him."

"Give the man a cigar," Artie said, sarcastically.

"You would've known that if you'd checked my gun, rather than assume," Bat said. "Instead, I was thrown in prison, denied medical attention, and had my spotless reputation tarnished."

The sheriff didn't know what to say.

"There was no bloodstain in that alley," said Jim. "Except for his," he said, gesturing to Bat. "The body was moved there afterwards, to frame him."

The sheriff swallowed nervously.

Bat noticed. "You know something…what is it?"

"Nothing specific," said the sheriff. "It's just that I noticed that too…this morning, when I went back to the alley to see if there were any clues."

"Did you find anything?" Jim asked.

The sheriff shook his head. "No. It would really help if you could describe your attackers, Mr. Masterson."

Bat sighed. "I didn't see _any_ of them…it was dark when they grabbed me, and with so many fists hitting me at once, I wasn't able to catch a glimpse of any faces."

"Maybe you should just leave town," the sheriff said. "Why wait around to be victimized again?"

Bat shook his head. "I can't do that, sheriff. I'm better off finding out who it is and taking care of it now…otherwise, whoever it is might follow me and try again."

Artie sighed. "Did the dead man have anything in his pockets?"

The sheriff shook his head. "Not a thing."

Bat sighed.

"If I come up with anything, I'll let you know," said the sheriff. "It's the least I can do," he said, sheepishly.

Bat nodded and stood. "Thanks." He reached over and picked up his bullets, before limping towards the door.

Jim and Artie followed him out, watching as Bat leaned against a post and reloaded his gun.

Suddenly, a shot rang out.

Artie and Jim each grabbed Bat by an arm and pulled him down to the ground.

Bat was taken by surprise by their unintentional roughness and dropped his last two bullets. He gasped and reached towards his wounded leg, even as he pointed his gun, looking for the threat.

The sheriff came bursting out his door. "Who's shooting?"

"We don't know," said Artie, seeing no one.

Another shot sounded, and the sheriff ran off.

"Stay here," said Jim. He jumped up and followed the sheriff.

Another shot was heard, and Artie and Bat both realized that the bullets weren't being fired towards them. Artie looked at Bat, to see his face looking paler. "Sorry," he said, knowing why.

Bat shook his head. "Forget it."

Artie suddenly looked around again, in all directions. "How do we know that wasn't a distraction?"

Bat was wondering the same thing, and they remained on their guard until Jim returned.

"It's all right," Jim said. "A couple of youngsters were shooting at bottles."

Artie holstered his gun and stood, pulling Bat to his feet.

"Well _that_ was bad timing," said Bat, putting the last two bullets in his gun. He limped over to his horse and mounted from its right side, to avoid using his left leg to boost himself up.

Artie helped him, and looked up at him after he was mounted. "Okay?" he asked.

Bat nodded with a sigh. "Getting _down_ will be the hard part."

Artie nodded back, knowing very well the inconvenience of being shot in the leg. He and Jim mounted and kicked their horses into a walk, on either side of Bat. They quietly rode through town, looking to see if Bat recognized anyone, or spotted anything suspicious.

"Why don't we head down that alley, and see where it leads," Bat said.

Jim and Artie nodded at him, and headed in that direction.

Jim entered the alley first, with Bat behind him and Artie bringing up the rear. Once through it, they stopped and looked around, trying to figure out which way to go.

Jim dismounted and looked at the ground for horse tracks, finding plenty. He walked ahead a ways before crouching to see something on the ground.

Bat rode over and saw what Jim had spotted: blood.

"Now we know which direction they brought the body from," said Artie.

Jim nodded and mounted again.

Artie and Bat followed him, heading outside the town. There was a lot of brush and trees a half mile away, and they all shared the same mental thought: each wondering if there was a hideout hidden there.

More spots of blood greeted their eyes as they rode, and they headed through the trees until they saw just what they expected up ahead: a cabin.

The three men looked at each other, none of them surprised.

"It looks like we finally got somewhere," said Bat, smiling slightly at his own pun. The smile suddenly disappeared when a gun appeared from around the tree to his left, pointed up at him.

"And you'll be going even further," a voice said.

Jim and Artie looked over, to find a man pointing a shotgun up at Bat.

"Drop your guns, or I'll fill Masterson with even _more_ holes," he said.

Neither Jim nor Artie could do anything, too far from the man. Together, they took out their guns and dropped them to the ground.

The man smiled. "Now, Mr. Masterson…drop _your_ gun and come with me. I wish to have a friendly discussion with you."

Bat's expression was one of sarcasm. "You and I have _never_ had what could be called a 'friendly discussion', Mr. Grady." He took out his gun and likewise dropped it.

"All right, boys," Grady suddenly shouted to some apparently invisible men. "As soon as Masterson and I get out of here, kill these other two."

"I'm the one you want, Grady," Bat said, looking at Artie and trying to hide his alarm. "Let them go."

Grady grinned, grabbed the bridle of Bat's horse, and started to lead it away, walking backwards with his shotgun still pointed at him.

Artie looked at Jim. With Grady's minions apparently holding guns on them waiting for the right moment to fire, they both knew that they couldn't stop the man from taking Bat. However, before the men could start shooting, Jim and Artie dove off their horses and grabbed their guns.

Gunfire erupted all around them, and Bat couldn't help but look back. The shotgun suddenly prodded his wounded leg, and he faced forward again.

"I wouldn't advise you making any sudden moves," Grady said. "I might get startled and accidentally pull the trigger!"

Bat was very aware of his cane, which was close enough for him to grab, but he knew that it was no match for the shotgun, and trying to go for it would only get him killed. "What good does it do you to kill them?" Bat said. "They haven't done anything to you."

Grady nodded. "No, they haven't…only _you_ have, but if I kill them, then you might know _my_ pain." With that, they'd arrived at the cabin, and Grady walked over to Bat, put down the shotgun, and roughly pulled him down from the horse.

Bat couldn't stop himself from uttering a cry of pain, and his leg buckled. He grabbed at his horse in an effort to stay upright.

Grady, annoyed, took his gun from his holster and whacked Bat on the back of his head, watching as he fell to the ground. One of his henchmen saw what was going on, holstered his own gun, and ran over, grabbing Bat under the arms and dragging him into the cabin.

TBC


	6. Two Prisoners for the Price of One

In the meantime, Artie had circled around and was approaching the cabin from the side. He saw Grady knock Bat out, and, angry, he ran towards the cabin after they went inside. He stealthily went around to the back, looking for another door, and found one. Just as he was reaching for the handle, it opened, and the man who had dragged Bat inside was standing there with a rifle…obviously having intended to return to the gunfight.

The man blinked with surprise, but raised his rifle as Artie raised his gun.

Grady saw, and exclaimed, "Stop!" to his henchman. He came over to the door, and looked at Artie. "If you wish for death, then by all means, fire. If you shoot at _him_," he said, gesturing to the man with the rifle. "Then _I_ will shoot _you_. If you shoot _me_, then _he_ will shoot you. Either way, you're dead, and so is Masterson."

Artie said nothing. He knew that they were right, and he'd have a better chance to save Bat if he could get inside the cabin. "How about having a 'friendly talk' with _me_?" he said. "Especially since Mr. Masterson appears to be sleeping right now."

Grady nodded. He wanted to know who these men with Masterson were. He held out his hand for the gun and gestured inside the cabin. "After you."

Artie handed him the gun and walked inside, heading towards Bat, who was lying motionless on the floor. Artie knelt beside him and checked his pulse, which was beating steadily. He tapped the side of his cousin's face, but got no response. "You know," he said. "I read that repeated head injuries are never a good thing." His sarcasm was obvious. "Thanks to you, he'll have _matching_ bumps on his head."

"My pleasure," Grady replied.

Artie stood. "So what did Bat supposedly do to you that you tried to frame him for murder?"

Grady's face flushed. "Supposedly? Supposedly?!" With that, he angrily swung his fist at Artie, but Artie blocked it and punched him back. It was a big mistake, for the man with the rifle used it to hit Artie on the back of his head, dropping him to the floor.

Grady had landed against a table, and pushed himself upright, wiping the corner of his mouth on his sleeve. "Throw them in there!" he exclaimed, pointing to another room.

The man complied, dragging Bat in first, and then Artie.

Artie had thankfully only received a glancing blow, and was dazed rather than unconscious. He lay on the floor feeling his senses drifting, until he heard a sudden groan. It took him a few seconds to remember his cousin, and he painfully tried to sit up. "Bat?" he called, wincing as he turned onto his side and pushed himself up on an elbow.

Bat was still lying where the man had left him, not moving.

Artie scooted over to him and shook his arm. "Bat," he repeated.

Bat felt himself being shaken, and winced when pain spread through his already injured head. He held his breath for a second and raised a hand to it. "I get hit on the head more often than a professional boxer," he slowly said, eyes still closed.

"I know the feeling…_very_ well," Artie answered, rubbing the back of his own head. "Are you all right?"

"I think I'll live," Bat said, finally opening his eyes. He tried to sit up.

Artie put a hand on his cousin's shoulder to hold him down. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," he said. "You didn't get a concussion the _first_ time you were attacked, but I wouldn't be surprised if you have one _now_."

Bat felt dizzy and lightheaded, but his stomach wasn't nauseated, so if he _did_ have a concussion, he knew that it was minor. "I'm all right," he insisted, trying to sit up again. He knew that Grady would be back, and he was _not_ going to remain lying on the floor with his enemy towering over him.

Artie helped Bat sit up, ignoring his own headache as he leaned him against a bedpost.

Bat blinked his eyes a few times, wrapping one arm around his bruised ribs, which hadn't appreciated the fall after he'd been struck.

Artie wanted to ask his cousin who Grady was and what he was accusing him of, but he could see evidence of concussion in Bat's unfocused gaze. "Can you get up?" he asked. "That's a bed."

In answer, Bat held out an arm.

Artie grasped it and pulled him to his feet, sitting Bat on the bed. He sat beside him and looked for the new bump.

Getting up had sent Bat's senses spinning, and he closed his eyes, flinching when Artie encountered the lump.

"Just like I told him, two matching bumps," Artie mumbled to himself. "Lie down," he said, pushing Bat flat.

Bat complied, keeping his eyes closed.

Artie sighed and stood from the bed, carefully rubbing the back of his own head as he looked around. There were no weapons in the room, other than using the obvious, like a lamp, and Artie suddenly realized with a start that the shooting outside had stopped.

What had become of Jim?

The answer came a few minutes later, when the door suddenly opened, and Grady walked in. He saw Bat on the bed and smiled. "And how are you feeling, Mr. Masterson?"

"Wonderful," Bat replied, despite the hand that he held over his eyes. "Never felt better."

Grady chuckled. "I can see that," he replied, sarcastically. He looked at Artie, who stood near the bed. "And who exactly are you, anyway?"

"Artemus Gordon," Artie replied. "And _you_ are?"

Grady's eyebrows rose. "Artemus Gordon…the Federal Agent?" he said, ignoring Artie's question. "I knew that you and the other man looked familiar, but I wasn't sure how. Fascinating. And how do you know our dear Mr. Masterson?"

Artie knew that it could be dangerous for him and Bat to mention being related. "Let's just say that I've known him for a very long time."

"Aha," said Grady. "I ask because this is a very private conversation, and I don't know if Mr. Masterson would like anyone else to be involved in it."

Bat cut in. "Anything that you have to say to me can be said in front of Mr. Gordon," he said, removing the hand from his eyes and reopening them.

"Very well," said Grady. He looked at Artie again. "Your friend here turned in my brother on a murder charge, and he was hanged."

Artie frowned. "It's not Bat's fault that your brother committed murder."

"He was innocent!" Grady exclaimed.

"No he wasn't," said Bat. "I saw it happen. He shot down two men in cold blood, and then tried to kill me for witnessing it."

"Liar!" Grady said, walking closer.

Artie stepped into his path, stopping him from reaching the bed.

Grady stopped. "You're responsible for my brother's death, Masterson, and you're going to pay. I tried to frame _you_ for murder so you would suffer the same death that my brother did!" Suddenly, his fury melted away. "Would you two be interested in knowing what became of your other friend? James West, I assume?"

Artie kept his expression impassive. "If you would care to enlighten us."

Grady turned and walked away from them. "He's dead. My men are disposing of his body as we speak."

A cold thrill of fear filled Artie's chest, and he felt his heart skip a beat. "I don't believe that."

Grady turned around. "Deny it all you want, but it's the truth. You'll be able to see with your own eyes soon enough…actually, on second thought, no you won't. Both of you are going to die, too…sooner than you think." With that, he walked out the door.

Bat watched as Artemus remained standing where he was. "Artie," he said.

Artie turned to look at him, with a dazed expression.

"Take it easy," Bat said. "There's no reason why we should believe him."

Artie said nothing, heading back over and sitting on the side of the bed again. He took a deep breath before saying, "We have to get out of here."

"Grady likely has someone guarding the door," Bat answered. "Is there anyone outside the window?"

Artie stood and headed over to it, looking out and seeing a man sitting in a chair, with a rifle on his lap. "Yes."

Bat sighed. He reached up and rubbed his forehead. "We need a plan."

"The most obvious plan—cliché or not—would be to hit him with _this_ the next time he comes in the door," Artie said, walking over to the lamp and picking it up.

Bat nodded.

Artie took the lamp and stood next to the door. They had no way of knowing when Grady would return, so he had to be ready.

It was only minutes later when the door opened, and Artie raised the lamp, ready to bring it down on Grady's head…but no one walked in.

"Step away from the door, Gordon," they heard. "Or Masterson dies right now."

The click of a gun hammer being pulled back filled the air, and Artie obeyed, walking away from the door.

Grady came in, and smiled. "Did you think that I would underestimate you?" he asked. Suddenly, he pulled his left hand out from behind his back, and tossed something at him, which Artie automatically caught.

It was Jim's jacket…covered with blood.

TBC


	7. Perfect Timing

Artie's breath left him when he realized what he was holding, and he nearly dropped it, horrified.

Bat was likewise stunned, and looked at Grady, to see a satisfied smirk on his face. He sat up and looked at his cousin again, with sympathy.

Artie took a shuddering breath, in an attempt to calm himself. He tried to bury his emotions for the moment, aware of the extreme danger that he and Bat still faced, and tore his gaze away from the bloodied material, looking back at Grady.

"Did I just succeed in accomplishing something that scores of men have tried and failed to do?" Grady asked. "Did I just kill the mighty James West, and break up the famous West and Gordon team?" He laughed.

Rage filled Artie, and he took a step towards him.

Grady swung the gun at him. "Ah ah ah!" he scolded.

Artie stopped, the anger not leaving his face. "You are going to _pay_ for this," he said. "I don't know how or when, but you _will_ pay, I swear it."

Grady smiled. "How will you ensure _that_ once _you're_ dead too? You and Mr. Masterson both," he said, gesturing towards Bat with his gun.

Artie gave no answer to that. If looks could kill, Grady would've disintegrated by now.

Grady chuckled. "I'll leave you alone for your last few minutes of life…with what's left of your friend." With that, he backed out the doorway, and left.

Artie closed his eyes, feeling the jacket in his hands but unable to look at it.

"Artie," Bat said.

Artie opened his eyes and looked at him, with a sigh. "We have to get out of here," he said, again.

Before he could do anything, however, two of Grady's minions walked into the room with rope. One of them headed towards Artie, grabbed the jacket from his hands, and threw it to the floor, before yanking his arms behind him and tightly tying his wrists.

The second man did the same with Bat, roughly pulling him up from the bed and ignoring his pained gasp.

Artie fought to get away, squirming in the man's grasp, but the other minion held a gun to Bat's head.

"Want him to die right _here_?" the man asked.

Artie stopped resisting, and the men pushed them both towards the door, one of them holding Bat's arm as he painfully limped. They were brought outside and over to a tree where something ominous hung.

A noose.

Artie was in a state of shock. Jim was apparently dead, and Bat Masterson was about to hang. His best friend and cousin would both die on the same day; two men that Artie regarded as the brothers that he never had…and he would probably be next. The government was about to lose three of it's most trusted lawman.

Artie tried to get his hands free of the rope, vowing to himself that if he was going to die, then he was going to try—somehow—to take Grady with him…the man who had killed two of the people who meant the most to him in the world.

They reached the tree, and the man who'd been sitting outside the window brought the chair over and put it under the noose. Without warning, two of the men grabbed Bat and lifted him up by his elbows, standing him on the chair where he teetered a little on his wounded leg. He looked at Artie, shocked that the situation had come to this. He had survived every near-encounter with death time and time again, but it looked like his luck had finally run out. He gave his cousin a slight smile, showing no fear for Artie's sake, even though he was horrified that Artie would have to witness this.

Artie looked at Grady, inwardly panicking as one of the men stood on the chair and pulled the noose over Bat's head. He struggled in the henchman's grasp. "Grady!" he urgently said. "What can I offer you to change your mind?"

Grady shook his head, not even pondering the notion. "You don't have what I want."

"How do you know that?" Artie said.

"Because _no one_ can give me what I want," Grady answered, angrily.

Artie quickly figured out what he was referring to: his brother. "Grady," he said. "Listen to me…the law is the law. Your brother committed a serious crime and received the legal punishment for it. No one likes it, but he should've known better and not murdered those men. You can't blame that on anyone but him."

"Yes I can!" Grady exclaimed. Before Artie could say anything else, Grady kicked the chair out from under Bat.

Bat gasped as he dropped and the noose pulled tight around his neck. A second later, a gunshot sounded, and he continued to fall, landing on the ground in a heap.

Everyone looked towards the shot, to see James West standing there, shirt bloodied, pointing a rifle at them. "Drop the guns right now, and untie them," he shouted. "Or Grady dies." He walked forward. "Grady…if you shoot Bat or Artie, I'll fill you full of holes and let you bleed to death!"

Grady was shocked to see Jim alive. "But you're dead!" he exclaimed.

"Do ghosts carry rifles?" Jim asked. He walked closer, still pointing it at Grady. "Untie them!" he exclaimed again.

One of the men quickly untied Artie, who dropped to his knees beside Bat, who was gasping on the ground, the noose still tight around his neck. Artie loosened the noose and pulled it off, before shoving at the man who was untying Bat and working on the ropes himself.

Jim reached them and looked down at Artie and Bat. "You two all right?"

Artie glanced up at Jim, feeling shaky. He'd almost lost his best friend and cousin, and in the blink of an eye, everything had changed. "For the most part," he said, getting the ropes off Bat and helping him sit up.

"Sheriff!" Jim suddenly shouted.

Unexpectedly, a dozen men came running out of the trees. "I told you to wait for us, West!" the sheriff answered, as he neared them.

Jim sighed. "It's a good thing I _didn't_," he said, looking down at his friends.

Bat looked at Jim as Artie helped him up. He rubbed his throat and frowned at Grady, whom the sheriff was handcuffing. "Your timing was perfect," Bat said, his voice sounding a little hoarse.

Artie smiled at Jim, with undisguised gratitude. "It usually is."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Grady was hanged the next morning. They found out that the dead man who Bat had been accused of killing had been one of Grady's henchmen; he'd sacrificed one of his own men in his deranged quest to kill Bat Masterson…and only succeeded in getting himself killed instead.

A few hours later, Jim opened the door to the train and stood aside so Artie could help Bat limp inside. They'd had Dr. Allens examine him again; who confirmed that Bat did in fact have a mild concussion, and after taking care of business at the sheriff's, they'd left town.

Artie brought Bat over to the couch and helped him lie down; making sure that a pillow was comfortably under his cousin's injured head. "How's that?" he asked.

Bat blinked a few times, the change in position making him dizzy. "Fine," he said. He looked up at them both. "I can't thank you two enough," he said. "I would probably be dead now if it weren't for you."

Jim nodded. He hadn't been shot in the gunfight with Grady's men…he'd run out of bullets, and smeared blood on himself from one of Grady's henchmen and played dead. After they dumped his 'body', he'd run back to town and burst into the sheriff's office, taking one of his rifles, telling him to get a posse and follow him, and dashed back on the sheriff's horse. "I couldn't let Artie lose his favorite cousin."

Bat smiled.

The telegraph suddenly started clicking, and Artie headed over to the desk to write it down. It was Colonel Richmond, telling them that they needed to be in Wyoming in five days, and the details of the case would be forthcoming. "Did you catch that, Bat?" Artie asked.

"I did," he answered, eyes closed.

"How would you like to come?" Artie asked, glancing at Jim, hoping that he wouldn't mind.

Bat opened his eyes and looked at them.

"You might as well spend time with us instead of recovering all alone in some hotel," said Artie.

"Interesting idea," said Bat. "I think I will."

"There's one condition though," said Jim. "You'll have to leave some girls for _us_."

Artie laughed and went to pour them some brandy.

Bat made a contemplative face. "I suppose I could…" he carefully sat up and accepted the glass from Artie. "But what would be the fun in that?" He raised his glass towards his cousin's.

Artie laughed again, and clicked their glasses together.

Jim shook his head with a smile. He was in trouble _now_.

THE END


End file.
